A Forgotten Word
by aliencatt
Summary: There are some words that are never spoken. Dean makes a mistake. FAO...WINCEST..sexual violence...dark fic. Read at your own risk.


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. I'm just a fan.

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set season three

Sam/Dean

**WARNING**...**WINCEST...sexual violence...READ AT YOUR OWN RISK...its dark and not to all tastes. You have been warned!**

**A/N**.. another of my earlier pieces. please enjoy.

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The Impala pulled up in front of the otherwise deserted motel, its rumble loud and resinous sending reassuring vibrations through its driver. Switching off the engine, Dean sat there for a moment just enjoying the quietness and the comfort of his faithful ride whilst the memory of the night before brought a smile to his lips and a twinkle to the eyes hidden behind dark shades.

He swung out of the car swaying unsteadily. It was true he'd had just a little too much to drink but it had not impaired the night's performance. Now he looked forward to a shower and collapsing onto his bed, so stretching, yawning and feeling all was right with the world, he unlocked and pushed through the door to the motel room.

Sam was sat at the table, working on the laptop and looked up at his brother's entrance. He just frowned and shook his head at the infuriating grin he was greeted with. "Good night then?" he hazarded, eyes returning to the screen.

"Yes," Sounding smug, thinking about the redhead and the 'breakfast' he had recently enjoyed.

"What was that?" Sam asked, his voice turning cold.

"I said, yes!" Dean repeated yawning whilst removing his shades then smiling across at his younger brother.

Sam rose slowly, moving around the table to stand rigidly, fixing Dean with a dark gaze from under his brows. "Really?" spoken low and intense.

And Dean knew then that he had made a mistake.

His grin fled and his head dropped, not being able to take that look from his brother. He slowly removed his jacket saying nothing, hoping that he was wrong but the atmosphere in the room was frozen and thick with inevitability. His gaze flitted up then back to the floor and, recognising Sam's mood, he moved in silence to stand before him. "I'm sorry," he offered meekly.

There was a sniff, "I can smell the whore on you," disdainfully pulling at the collar of Dean's shirt.

"But you said it was okay. You said I could," Dean pleaded in earnest, his eyes lifting to search Sam's.

"You didn't even think to shower before you crawled back?" more a statement of fact than a question.

"I'm sorry." Dean dropped his eyes once more to watch as he tentatively placed a hand on Sam's chest, his attitude one of total submission. He hardly dared to breathe.

The slap stunned him, knocking his face away but did not really surprise. It was designed to humiliate rather than do any damage and he turned back to Sam, now both hands on his brother's chest and from trembling lips pleaded, "Please Sam. I should have thanked you. I was thoughtless. I'm sorry. Please, forgive me." Then Dean waited, knowing it was useless. It was already too late. He was going to pay now.

A hand harsh in his hair, grabbing, forcing his head back and to the side, the other hand grasping his throat as Sam's face came close to his own. He felt breath on his lips as his face was studied. 'Kiss me' he begged silently, it would be so much better if Sam kissed him. He would be able to bear it then.

A thumb crushing across his lips, stretching, moving them around then Sam's long fingers entered his mouth to push down on his tongue, trapping it behind his bottom teeth. Then Dean was forced to his knees just before he choked. Sam knew from practice how far he could go without causing damage, he knew what he was doing.

Dean's head was forced back once more and, as he looked up into Sam's lust filled face, it was the eyes that scared him, dark and hooded.

One hand still in the hair holding Dean, Sam removed his fingers from the mouth and slowly, deliberately, unzipped his jeans then popped open the button.

The grip on Dean's hair lessened slightly and he knew what was expected. He gently moved the fabric aside and, holding onto Sam's hips, leant forwards to place a kiss on his brother's taut belly. That was for himself. When Sam was like this he would not kiss him until it was over and, if he was really angry, not even then.

Taking a last long breath, Dean then licked at the end of Sam's very attentive prick before taking it in past his lips. He tried everything he knew, all his acquired skill to bring pleasure and it worked for a while until Sam took that slight step back. Forced to strain forwards on his knees, Dean held on tightly to the slim hips for balance. He quickly opened his throat as Sam began to trust into his mouth, as his brother began fucking him, taking physical control of him as well as mental.

Thankfully, Sam came quickly, deep in his throat and Dean hit the floor hard, coughing and choking as, for the moment, he was thrown away. He could hear Sam's deep breathing and saw him stagger back as he kept a wary eye on him. Dean stayed where he was taking the time to recover, tears leaking from his eyes, uncertain whether from the continued irritation in his throat or the sadness he felt.

"Get up," Sam commanded and, struggling to get his legs under him, Dean climbed to stand submissively once more.

Sam was leaning with his shoulders back against the wall, his hips thrust forwards, his own hand stroking his belly slowly. Oh, how he enjoyed Dean's stance, penitent, anxious, just waiting for him to decide what to do to him. He smiled. "Strip. Slowly."

And Dean did. He pulled his shirt off one shoulder and sleeve at a time, laying it neatly on the closest bed, Sam's bed. Grasping the hem of his grey t-shirt, he pulled upwards with crossed arms knowing Sam would be savouring the sight of his stretched torso. Slowly, he straightened the top and placed it with the shirt on the bed.

Crouching down, he undid the laces on his boots then standing, lifting one leg at a time, he removed them, all the while being careful not to look at Sam. The angrier he made his brother, the worse it would be. Dean tilted his hips forwards as his fingers unbuttoned his jeans and sliding his hands around to his hips, pushed the pants down then off to add them to the tidy pile.

He stood naked trying to be as appealing as possible. He knew it would not be that difficult, not that he was overly vain but he was well aware of Sam's obsession with his body.

"Where's your underwear?" Sam asked accusingly.

Damn, he must have left it the woman's place. His brother had watched him dress so he dare not lie. "I must have left it. I'm sor…"

This slap was designed to hurt as Dean crashed to the floor, loosing his balance at the suddenness of Sam's attack. He put a hand to his lip, wincing at the spilt. Seeing blood on his fingers, he turned an accusing glare up at Sam who stood above him, breathing hard more from desire than exertion.

Sam's eyes roved over the semi curled figure at his feet. His prick become almost painfully hard again and he commanded, through a tight throat, "Get up. Get on the bed now," and stood back as Dean complied.

He took too long. Dean had hardly crawled onto his bed as Sam grabbed him hard around the waist, pushing him forwards to kneel awkwardly as his legs were pushed apart.

His face forced down against the worn bedspread, Dean gasped out pleading with Sam, "Please. Sam. Don't ... don't hurt me. Sammy. Please. Give me time," pleading as he knew what to expect but Sam's only concession was to spit on his arsehole before he began to force his way inside. Dean clutched at the covers desperate to find purchase, something to hold onto as Sam only gave enough quarter not to cause injury.

It hurt, it hurt so damn much. He felt burnt, the friction so grating as Sam 'speared' him long, slow and deep. Each thrust was as painful as the first and then Sam finally stilled, giving him a chance to relax around him, to accommodate his presence. Dean was gasping then Sam moved him, repositioned him, pulling him up so he could get his arms under him, surrounding him to hold onto his shoulders. Sam began to move faster, pulling Dean back onto himself as well as thrusting into him.

There was a bite to his shoulder, to the back of his neck and the hands were moved again, one to splay into his hair pushing his head forward and down, the other holding across his waist to pull him back once more. Dean was amazed yet again at the strength of his brother, all used now to get as deep inside him as possible.

As had happened before, Dean felt himself get hard and could not understand why. He got nothing from being taken like this other than pain. The only saving grace that he could see was that he knew how much Sam craved this, how much he took from him. It made Sam 'happy' and after all, that's what really mattered to him. That's why he had never truly fought him off. Not after that first time when he had felt so awful, so guilty as Sam had curled up in a corner on realisation of what he had tried to do to his older brother.

Sam liked it rough, he always had and Dean had met him gladly, passion for passion, but that day when Sam had attacked him without warning, had basically tried to rape him, had changed everything. It had been a gradual slide since but now it came to this.

What Dean needed was to be kissed. He loved it when Sam let him kiss him and even more so when Sam kissed him. That's what kept him sane now knowing that after Sam had finished with him, if he had enjoyed himself, felt satisfied, he would spend time trying to console him by kissing him. The harder he took him now, the more he hurt him, the more he would cater to Dean's whim. If he was lucky.

His prick had to make do on its own as Sam would do nothing to help him there. Once more he would have to wait and just maybe he would have done good enough to deserve attention. He was pushed forwards, closer to the bed, his knees to the sides and felt Sam's weight on him as he seemed to take a slight respite, breathing raggedly by his ear.

"Damn it Dean! You're just so fuckin…" and raising up onto tight straining arms, Sam renewed his onslaught, grunting as he repositioned and took Dean from slightly higher, stretching him, pushing his whole body forwards and down onto the bed.

Dean never found out what he was as, with a few more quick thrusts, then a couple of long slow ones, Sam stilled, shuddered then came with an explosion of breath causing Dean to grunt as they collapsed with Sam's whole weight pinning him, then, with another half thrust, they both lay panting, Sam's cheek on Dean's.

The pressure on Dean's hips was becoming excruciating with his legs bent and forced up to the sides. He tried to wiggle slightly, hinting for Sam to move off him. It was the only thing he dared to do. But Sam would move only when Sam was ready. It felt an eternity to Dean then Sam came back to himself and once more Dean was surprised by the speed of movement.

Sam pulled out of him, causing Dean to shudder then he was pulled up and back to kneel sitting on Sam's lap. He must have done good, just the right amount of reluctance, resistance, as Sam's hand enclosed his prick as his hair was gabbed yet again and his head pulled back, his mouth forced close to Sam's. Sam jerked him off quickly, the abuse making Dean cum violently, quivering against his brother, straining to reach Sam's lips, desperate to feel that mouth moving on his.

He was thrown back to the bed and Sam, wiping his hand on Dean's back, left him there panting, slowly straightening his aching legs to lie exhausted. He watched as his brother calmly fastened his jeans, straightened his shirt and moved off to sit at his laptop as if nothing had happened.

He could not have done that well then. Sam had left him, abandoned him there, sprawled out on top of his bed and had not deigned to kiss him. Not even once. Dean swallowed and closed his eyes turning his face into the pillow and silently, so as not to disturb Sam, wept.

-= End=-

Followed up in..."An Unspoken Word"


End file.
